


Take My Hand

by emfelicity



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: F/F, Fluff, M/M, Modern AU, abuse tw, and that explicit rating comes into play ;), blood tw, but also some heavier stuff, but i can confirm: it is, domestic violence tw, happy birthday molly!! (only 2 weeks late... whoops), i recognize that makes it sound like this is not a fluff piece, nothing is graphic or anything but just in case, oh! i should include some trigger warnings, pirate queens is on the side btw but it's definitely there :), this is mostly fluff tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 17:04:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5464259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emfelicity/pseuds/emfelicity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The rest of Hanschen’s birthdays pass similarly. Some are wonderful and some are less so, but every single one of them is spent together and Hanschen couldn’t ask for anything more."</p><p>Or, nearly 4K words of me and my boys being schmoopy and in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take My Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [musicalkiddo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalkiddo/gifts).



> To Molly: we've only shared one birthday so far, but I cannot wait for the rest. Who knows where we'll be in a year, five, ten - I can only hope that we pass the time with each other. You have brightened my life with the light you share, and I love you so, so much <3

The first birthday Hanschen can really remember is his sixth one. It’s December and it’s cold outside, and his parents buy him a brand new puffy coat. He opens the box before school and the moment he sees the dark blue fabric he throws it on over his pajamas, running to model it in the bathroom mirror. He zips and unzips it, tries it with the hood on and off, all with a smile covering his face. 

After a few minutes, his mother kisses him on the head and tells him, “It’s time to get ready for school, honey.” After a final glance in the mirror, he slides the coat off his shoulders. 

“Can I wear it to school, Mama?” he asks, bright blues eyes full of hope, squeezing the coat to his chest.

She answers with a laugh. “Yes, you can. But you can’t wear those pajamas! Go get dressed, and then we’ll have breakfast, and then you can put that coat on for school, okay?”

“Okay!” He hands the coat to his mother, and then runs upstairs to get ready for school.

Hanschen walks into school with his chest puffed out and refuses to take off his coat, even in the warm building. Finally, it’s time for lunch, and then recess. He runs out to the swings with his best friend, Wendla, pushing as high as he can and letting the wind rush past his cheeks. 

He smiles and laughs with her, stopping his swing to grab some snow off the ground and mold it into a ball. It flies through the air and nails her right in the shoulder. She gasps as the snow hits her, and Hanschen can’t help but laugh. She retaliates, dropping snow on top of his head and laughing as it falls from his hood to his nose.

Hanschen goes to pick up more snow, but gets distracted by a dark haired boy a few swings away. The boy is sitting alone, not moving at all except for the shaking of his shoulders as he shivers in the cold. He’s only wearing a T-shirt and jeans, and his cheeks are bright red. He looks to Wendla, and then to the boy again. “Who is that?” he asks her.

“That’s Ernst. He sits by Moritz in class, I think. He’s quiet.”

“I’ll be right back.” Hanschen walks over to the boy, sitting in the swing next to him.

Remembering his manners, he puts out his hand. “Hi. I’m Hanschen.”

Ernst looks up at the other boy, and takes a hand out from where it’s wrapped around his waist to shake hands. “I’m Ernst.”

“That’s what Wendla said!” He points back to her. “Wendla’s my best friend.”

Ernst doesn’t really know what to say then. He doesn’t have a best friend to point to.

Hanschen continues, remembering the reason he came over in the first place. “Where’s your jacket? You’re shivering.”

Ernst looks down, embarrassed. “I don’t have one,” he whispers. 

Hanschen is shocked. “You don’t have one? Here, take mine. I have another one at home.” He slides the new coat off of his shoulders, and stands up to place it on Ernst’s back. 

Ernst would normally say no to such a gift, but he’s so cold that he slides his arms into the sleeves. He looks back up at Hanschen, now in just a sweater and gloves. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Nope, I’m warm. Here, you’ve got to zip it up.” Hanschen grabs the zipper and brings it up all the way to Ernst’s chin, the coat too big on Ernst’s smaller frame.

There’s heat in Ernst’s cheeks for reasons other than the warmth of the coat, a blush spreading across his face. “Thank you,” he finally remembers to say. 

“You’re welcome,” Hanschen replies.

After recess, both boys walk back inside for art time. Ernst gets his crayons out immediately, wanting to have enough time to make this drawing perfect. After half an hour, the teacher announces that it’s time to clean up, and Ernst goes over to Hanschen’s table. He nervously hands the other boy a sheet of paper and the dark blue coat. 

Hanschen looks down at the drawing. Written in crayon at the top, it says “hapy berthday hanshin” and underneath is a drawing of the two boys sitting on the swings. Both of them are wearing puffy, dark blue coats, with smiles going all the way across their faces. Ernst has already run back to his desk by the time Hanschen looks up, but he mouths “thank you” across the classroom to a red-faced Ernst. 

The next day, Hanschen brings his old coat from kindergarten to school, knowing that the smaller size will fit Ernst better. “My mama said I can give this to you. So you’re not cold outside.” He hands the coat over to Ernst, who slides it on over bare arms. “See you at recess?”

“Yeah!” he replies. Ernst’s eyes sparkle with joy and his mouth opens into a smile, and he looks as happy as he did in yesterday’s drawing, excited to finally have a best friend.

*****************************

It’s the early hours of Hanschen’s eleventh birthday, and all he can hear is screaming downstairs. His parents have been yelling for what feels like hours, and even the music blaring in his headphones can’t drown them out. He knows his dad came home too late, too drunk, too angry. He always does.

Hanschen hides in his bed until he hears a crash. At the sound, he runs down the stairs and sees his mom on the floor of the kitchen, blood on the ground next to her head. His dad is nowhere to be seen, but he hears the car start up a few seconds later. His hands are shaking, but he grabs the phone and dials 9-1-1, explaining through tears that his mom is hurt.

Sirens blare minutes later, and he holds his mom’s hand in the ambulance as they take her to the ER. She wakes up less than an hour later, with only a concussion and some stitches. Hanschen sits alone in the waiting room; he has no family to call. 

Hanschen’s mom sleeps through most of the day, but he can’t find it in him to get the rest he needs. He’s given a chair in her room at some early morning hour, and he sits with her the rest of the day. 

Around six o’clock that night, someone knocks on the door. He doesn’t answer, expecting it to be the nurse who will just let herself in. A few seconds pass, and he hears another knock. Wondering who it could be, he stands up and opens the door. Ernst stands on the other side, a worried smile on his face and a wrapped box in his hands.

Hanschen can’t help it, he falls forward into Ernst’s arms. He stands there for a moment, and Ernst just hugs him back. Hanschen finally steps back, wiping his tears away. 

“How’d you know I was here?”

“You weren’t at school, and Wendla said she heard sirens down the street last night. I just guessed.” Ernst hands the gift to Hanschen. “Happy birthday!”

Hanschen rips the paper off with the speed that only an eleven-year-old boy can and then opens the box. He pulls out a notebook, and flips through the first few pages to see several almost identical drawings.

“No, you’ve gotta flip it. Like this.” Ernst takes the notebook from Hanschen’s hands, and then flips through the pages, showing his makeshift movie. The drawings show Hanschen as a superhero: cape, tights, and all. He flies over the tall buildings of a city, stopping to put out a fire that’s climbing its way up a skyscraper.

“Whoa! How did you do that?” 

Ernst’s semi-permanent blush returns. “Um, I don’t know. I just drew it, I guess.”

“That’s amazing! This is totally sick, Ernst.” 

“Thanks, Hanschen.” He bites his lip. “How’s your mom doing?”

Hanschen lets out a shaky breath, but this time it ends with a small smile. “The doctors say she’ll be fine. She’s just sleeping right now. Her head’s going to hurt for awhile, though.”

“And your dad?”

“He’s gone. He left.” 

“I’m so sorry.” Ernst doesn’t know what else to say. “It’s his loss, though.”

Though there’s still sadness in his eyes, Hanschen looks at Ernst with a smirk. “Damn right.”

Ernst looks up at the clock, realizing he’s been there for ten minutes already. “Oh, I have to go! My dad’s in the car. Happy birthday!”

With a final goodbye to his friend and a “get well soon!” to Hanschen’s mother, Ernst heads back outside. Hanschen sits back down in his chair and flips through the notebook again, watching himself fly through the sky, wishing he could save his mom the way he saves the people in the fire.

*****************************

Hanschen walks into school on his sixteenth birthday, the light in his eyes from his childhood now nearly extinguished. Ernst smiles at him as soon as he sees him, and goes over to give him a hug.

“Happy birthday, Hansi! How does it feel to be sixteen?”

“Shitty.” Hanschen feels bad for glaring at Ernst, but he knows better than anyone how Hanschen feels. He starts to walk away, but Ernst refuses to let Hanschen be this miserable on the most important day of the year.

“Hey! Come on, there’s gotta be something to be happy about. Aren’t you getting your driver’s license today?”

“Mom has work.”

“Alright, that settles it. I’m coming over after school, and we are making oven s’mores, and then we are binge-watching Friends. Nope, don’t even try and argue with me. There’s no way in hell you’re spending your birthday alone. I’m bringing Wendla and Ilse.”

Hanschen tries to keep glowering, but even he can’t frown when he thinks about the two sweetest girls in the world.

“Fine. But you have to bring the marshmallows.” 

“Deal.”

Ernst calls his dad to check him out before his last class of the day, and Wendla and Ilse sneak out of biology. Ilse drives the three friends over to the store and they get as many balloons as they can afford, and some streamers just for the hell of it. They ransack the shelves for everything they need for s’mores, and then race to Hanschen’s house to decorate. 

Seven rolls of streamers, who knows how much tape, and thirty-three balloons later, Hanschen’s living room could be photographed for an ad for party décor. Wendla is just putting on a playlist when Hanschen walks in the front door. 

Hanschen wants to be mad when he sees the state his house is in, but Ernst looks so hopeful that he just can’t.

“Happy birthday, Hanschen!” Ernst cheers, and then gives his best friend a hug. 

“You know you have to clean this up, too, right? It’s my birthday and there’s no fucking way I’m cleaning up a single piece of trash.”

Ernst giggles. “I promise we’ll clean up. Now will you have some fun? There’s s’mores in the kitchen, I have Friends on DVD, and there’s real life friends to cuddle with. I know you like it when Wendla plays with your hair, and Ilse will totally paint your nails if you want. Oh! And I have a present for you too!”

He steps behind the couch to grab a box, and hands it over to Hanschen. He looks strangely nervous, opening and closing his mouth before saying, “I know things have been hard since, you know. Your dad and stuff. But there’s been so many good things! And I, uh, wanted you to remember them.”

Hanschen pulls out a scrapbook from the box. It’s filled with photos of the past five years, from the time Hanschen and his mom went to the zoo on his twelfth birthday, to Hanschen laughing on the swings at the park with Ernst just last week. 

“I asked around for photos, and it turns out there’s a lot. So I put them all in one place. Do you like it?”

“God, I love you.” Hanschen gasps the moment the words roll off his tongue, and he drops the scrapbook on the couch and turns away as fast as he can. He’s just out of arm’s reach when Ernst is able to process what he said, and he leans forward to catch Hanschen’s wrist. 

“Hanschen, wait! Look at me.” Ernst waits for the Hanschen’s terrified eyes to look up to his. “Hanschen, I love you, too.”

Hanschen laughs, but it’s a bitter sound. “Don’t lie to me.”

Ernst’s wishes Hanschen knew just how much he was telling the truth, and so he leans forward to kiss the other boy. Hanschen’s eyes widen before they close and he melts into the kiss, letting Ernst show him how he feels. 

“About damn time,” Ilse whispers. Ernst smiles, leaving a final peck on Hanschen’s lips.

Hanschen turns to the girls. “Hey, at least we beat you two.”

Wendla and Ilse turn to each other. “You mean…” Wendla says.

“I mean, do you?”

Wendla reaches for the other girl’s hand, bringing it up to her lips and pressing a kiss to her skin. “So much.”

Hanschen sniffs, smelling something coming from the kitchen. “As much as I love this, is my kitchen on fire?”

Both girls look at each other in horror. “S’mores!” Wendla shrieks.

A lot of panicking and scraping burnt s’mores off of cookie sheets later, Ernst leans over to kiss the boy he’s cuddled with on the couch, the sugar in the marshmallows making the kisses they share even sweeter.

*****************************

Hanschen’s nineteenth birthday is the first one he spends away from home. Except he’s not away from home, really, because he and Ernst live in an apartment together and Hanschen would never say something so cheesy, but home is wherever his boyfriend is.

Wendla and Ilse drop by with a bottle of champagne to celebrate, and it’s nearly ten o’clock when they leave. Ernst is practically bouncing with excitement to finally give Hanschen his birthday present, and he tugs the blond by the hand toward the bedroom. 

“I know what you’re thinking, and yes, birthday sex is definitely happening. But that’s not my present for you. Okay, cover your eyes.”

Hanschen rolls his eyes, but brings his hands up to his face.

“Hanschen, I can see you peeking. I’m not opening the door until you cover your gorgeous face.”

“You could get a tie to cover my eyes… and then lead me to bed… and then –“

“Hanschen!” Even after three years, Ernst blushes. “Close. Your. Eyes.”

After confirming that there are no cracks between Hanschen’s fingers, Ernst opens the bedroom door, and guides his boyfriend into the room.

He positions Hanschen so he’s facing the right way, and then Ernst takes Hanschen’s hands from his face so he can see the painting on the wall.

Hanschen holds back his reaction for a moment, before remembering that only Ernst is there and he’s safe to express.

“Ernst, I don’t even know what to say. Actually, first, did you get permission to do this? We rent this place!”

Ernst laughs. “Of course I asked, Hanschen. Our walls are white, so the landlord said I can paint over it later.”

“Thank god.” Hanschen walks forward to trace the lines of Ernst’s work. Their boring white wall has been replaced with a beautiful scene from last winter. The Hanschen and Ernst in the painting are slow dancing in front of the window of Hanschen’s upstairs bedroom. Ernst has created little flakes floating down outside, but everything inside looks warm. Painting Ernst slouches just enough to rest his chin on painting Hanschen’s shoulder, his head tucked into Hanschen’s neck. 

Hanschen hums the melody of the song they danced to that night as he sees the lyrics written above their heads. “Take my hand; take my whole life too. ‘Cause I can’t help falling in love with you.”

Ernst walks around to Hanschen’s back and wraps himself around the love of his life. “What do you think?”

“Ernst, it’s incredible. After all this time, I still can’t help falling in love with you.”

“I love you, too. And thank you.” Ernst punctuates his gratitude with a kiss to Hanschen’s neck.

“No, thank you.” Hanschen turns around to kiss the other boy, soon slipping his tongue in behind Ernst’s teeth. “If I remember right, and I know I do, you said something about birthday sex?”

“I know you love a special occasion.”

Hanschen smirks. “And I know you love every occasion.”

Hanschen crashes his lips back on Ernst’s, and Ernst is quickly reduced to a series of whimpers. Teeth nip at Ernst’s bottom lip, his ear, the line of his jaw. Hanschen stops long enough to remove shirts from both boys, dragging his lips across newly uncovered skin. Goosebumps rise up from more than just the cold, and Ernst’s head falls back as a moan leaves his throat. 

“God, you’re amazing,” Ernst whines. Hanschen sucks his nipple into his mouth, and after that, it’s all Ernst can do to stay standing. 

Luckily, Hanschen pushes Ernst down onto their bed soon after, sliding Ernst’s pants down his long legs. Ernst takes a breath to control himself, and then hooks his leg around Hanschen’s to flip them over. 

“Tonight’s about you, Hansi.” The blond is breathless underneath Ernst from the flip, and he gasps as Ernst rolls their hips together. Ernst takes his turn to undo the button on Hanschen’s jeans, working the skin tight fabric off his body. Ernst licks his hand and slides it down Hanschen’s now uncovered length, pumping a few times before bringing his mouth down. 

“ _God_ , Ernst,” Hanschen moans, trying not to buck up into Ernst’s mouth. He grips at Ernst’s hair, pulling in just the right way that makes him moan around Hanschen. Ernst takes his time, school in the morning be damned. His tongue swirls around the tip as his hand pumps the base, obscene noises filling up the otherwise quiet room. 

“Oh god, just like that, oh my god, _Ernst_.” Ernst brings up a hand to play with Hanschen’s nipple, and he just can’t take it anymore. His hips buck up and his head lays back as he comes, pleasure rocking through his body in waves. 

Ernst climbs up Hanschen’s body to kiss his boyfriend, his taste still on his lips. He starts to pull up their sheets to tuck them in, but Hanschen stops him. 

“What about you?” he asks. 

“Today’s your birthday. I’ll wait until mine,” Ernst replies.

Hanschen is outraged. “There is no fucking way in hell I am waiting until _April_ –“

Ernst giggles, and kisses Hanschen on the nose. “I know, Hanschen. But I can wait until tomorrow. You’re already yawning.”

Hanschen finishes his yawn, and then gives in. “Fine. Tomorrow, though, is Friday, and I am already making plans for our weekend, none of which involve leaving this apartment.

“Perfect.”

Hanschen drifts off to sleep quickly, and Ernst whispers “happy birthday” before doing the same.

*****************************

The rest of Hanschen’s birthdays pass similarly. Some are wonderful and some are less so, but every single one of them is spent together and Hanschen couldn’t ask for anything more.

On Hanschen’s twenty-fifth, Ernst convinces him to go ice skating for the first time, and they fall all over each other and bruise their knees and get hot chocolate to warm up. 

His thirty-second is spent in Paris because Ernst has been invited to an art conference, and they spend the day touring the city and kissing at the Eiffel Tower and getting paint on the new suits Ernst bought for them both. 

Forty is one of Hanschen’s fondest memories, because they have nowhere to be but home.

Fifty-one is the first one where Hanschen doesn’t get a phone call from his mother; her funeral was only a month prior. Ernst keeps by his side all day as a reminder that he’s not abandoned, alone. He never will be.

They spend the sixties traveling to a different place every birthday. Hanschen wants to see the world, and Ernst wants to paint it. They visit old friends – sixty-nine is spent with Ilse and Wendla on a nude beach because it’s on Hanschen’s bucket list and he’s only turning sixty-nine once and he won’t miss the opportunity.

The seventies are spent at home because even though the sunsets in the canals of Amsterdam are breathtaking, none of them match the beauty of the wrinkles in Ernst’s smile.

At long last, Hanschen’s final birthday, his eighty-sixth, is spent in the hospital. He has a heart attack days before, and the doctors are trying, but he has taken all of the years he can. Ernst offers to spend nights on the sofa in his room, but the night staff doesn’t say anything when he gives up after a mere hour and a half and the two share the bed. Hanschen complains about the food and the staff and the needles and the smells, and Ernst laughs and kisses him anyway.

Ernst disappears on the day before Hanschen’s birthday, and returns a few hours later with a box. Hanschen begs and begs but Ernst is persistent and makes him wait. On Hanschen’s birthday, Ilse and Wendla bring balloons and smuggle in more chocolate than Hanschen should really be eating, but he eats it anyway. 

Both girls give him a teary kiss goodbye, and finally Ernst allows him to tear open his box. Wrapping paper is thrown onto the ground with childish excitement, but he slows down when he sees the fabric inside. With a gentle hand, he pulls out a dark blue, puffy coat. Eyes shine bright and wet as Ernst helps him to his feet as well as he can, and then slides the coat over Hanschen’s shoulders – a mirror reflection of that day on the playground exactly eighty years ago. 

Hanschen, however, has not changed. He grabs his walker and makes Ernst drag along his oxygen tank, and the two stroll around his hospital floor, making certain every nurse and tech and doctor see his dark blue coat. He even sneaks onto the elevator to show off on other floors, his chest puffed out with as much pride as an eighty-six-year-old man with a walker can have. 

When Hanschen is satisfied, they return to his room, both exhausted from the exercise. They reminisce over old birthdays, the scrapbook from his sixteenth now full, along with many others.

As the day ends, Ernst makes sure Hanschen’s pillows are all placed perfectly, lays on his side behind Hanschen, and then draws up their sheets. The lights are out and the sounds of the hospital have quieted with the night, and they spend a few moments simply listening to each other’s breathing, and feeling the rise and fall of each other’s chests. 

“Ernst?”

“Hm?”

“Can you take my hand?”

Ernst right reaches for Hanschen’s left, and he briefly glides his finger across he wedding band there.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Hansi.”

“No, not for that.” He takes a deep breath. “Thank you for falling in love with me.”

Ernst smiles and reaches a kiss forward to Hanschen’s shoulder. “By now, you should know that the pleasure was all mine.”

“I love you, Ernst.”

“I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you liked it. As always, comments of any sort are appreciated! 
> 
> I can also be found on tumblr at dwsatrash, where I'm always accepting prompts and new friends :)


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